Over her dead body. She’d rather be dead than see some gold digger take away everything she and her late husband worked for.
The fire in Alia’s study crackled softly, but it did nothing to warm the cold fury in her chest. She stood near the window, fingers tapping against the edge of the wooden desk, her patience razor-thin.
Alia had sacrificed too much, buried too many secrets, bled for this pack with her own hands and heart. And now her very flesh and blood were willing to throw it all away for a girl who didn’t even belong.
Frustrated, she stood up and started pacing around the length of her study, her fingers curling into fists. Behind her, the pack witch and Brandon stood in silence.
Brandon had known Alia long enough to recognize the warning signs. The slight crease between her
